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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/24344635">Things I'll never finish</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/petrichor_petrichor/pseuds/petrichor_petrichor'>petrichor_petrichor</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Stray Kids (Band)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>A mess really, M/M, a very un-betaed draft, not beta read because we die like MEN, seriously it's a very very rough draft</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>In-Progress</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-05-23</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-05-23</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-04 07:54:55</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Explicit</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>1,386</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/24344635</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/petrichor_petrichor/pseuds/petrichor_petrichor</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>“Lucky Strike?”</p>
<p>The words make Chan break into a smile. It’s easy to remember but Chan doesn’t need to know why.</p>
<p>“You’re not going to ask me for my ID...?” He trails of as he pretends to read the white name tag on the cashier’s shirt. “...Minho?</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Bang Chan &amp; Lee Minho | Lee Know, Bang Chan/Lee Minho | Lee Know</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>2</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>22</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>Things I'll never finish</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>I'm alive (barely)</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>He’s working late today. Again. All because his idiot to coworker, Changbin, had taken the liberty to go out and catch the flu. Swore on his minimum wage paycheck that he didn’t know how he managed to come down with it but when images of Changbin dragging his hands over the pay desk’s countertop, urging people to pay with cash instead of card so he could sit and feel up coins and notes in a way that would make Karl Marx turn in his grave and how he also seemed to always stick around by the coughing and sneezing children in the store just put Minho under the impression that Changbin was doing all this deliberately. The fact that Changbin just yesterday had left his phone unlocked when he went out to have a smoke which by the way, he still hadn’t payed for the Lucky Strike box, and thus also left Minho staring at the thick headline reading “How do you catch a flu or a cold”. Minho hopes he chokes on a real nasty and yellow phlegm glob. </p>
<p>And it’s not like it’s Changbin’s fault that Minho now has to deal with a trio of so obviously underage boys trying to convince him that “they are in fact old enough to buy a box of marlboro” and when that doesn’t work, the tallest of them gets a death glare from the short one of them before clearing his throat and pulling the “His dad gave us permission” card. It’s not Changbin’s fault, it’s just that it is indeed Changbin’s fault and when his miniature coworker gets back he will definitely tell his nutjob of a girlfriend that he’s cheating on her. Dick. Good luck getting out of that one.</p>
<p>“I left my ID in my car.” The one in the middle speaks up, the one that plays the essential role of evening out the height difference in their little trio of friends and making them look like a staircase where they’re stood on a row. </p>
<p>The average height dude looks like he’s spent hours in front of a dusty mirror, most probably stained with yellow pus from popped teenage pimples, trying to slick back his hair in an attempt to look like he's straight out from a 70’s 80’s romance movie. Grease, is Minho’s guess. No matter how much time the boy tries to make himself come across as a 21st century version of Danny Zuko, all Minho can see is a boy who’s going to bawl his eyes out when he tries to comb out the rock hard wax in his hair. A classic mistake. Minho would know, since he too was sixteen once upon a time.</p>
<p>“Mhm. Did his dad also give you permission to forget your ID? Just like he gave you permission to buy cigarettes?” Minho points to short one, the one with a tiny crocodile on the corner of his pink tee and with a nose that looks like it’s always up, facing the ceiling. The tall one lets out a squeak that more or less gives away the fact that he hasn’t completed the process of puberty yet. “Why don’t you just go out and get your ID then?” Minho presses on, unamused with his fingers slowly drumming against the countertop.</p>
<p>The sliding doors hiss as they part. Minho vaguely registers it. </p>
<p>“Lost my car keys.” </p>
<p>Of fucking course.</p>
<p>“Which car is it?”</p>
<p>A shaky finger points to a familiar looking white Volkswagen parked outside the convenience store. The sight of the car makes Minho’s chest contract for just a second, and his breathing picks up. Maybe Pavlov really was onto something with his classical conditioning and all that. Minho will try not to ditch psychology in favor of napping class next week.</p>
<p>He plasters on a smile made up of 100% plastic and 0% effort. A smile that probably isn't Greta Thunberg approved. </p>
<p>“I cannot sell cigarettes without seeing your ID but you are welcome to buy any other products.” The words sound robotic when they leave his mouth, an automatic reply that Minho barely registers saying.</p>
<p>His focus has shifted from the boys still eyeing the rack of cigarettes behind the desk to...something more interesting.</p>
<p>“Move to the side.” A figure looms behind the boys. Big build, clad in an oh so familiar orange vest with grey stripes and hair bleached beyond repair. “Please.” The figure adds, because Minho knows how soft the man actually is. At least, around him.</p>
<p>Chan’s bulkier than him and Minho just knows that if the older of them had a sister then he’d be the type of guy to scare all potential boyfriends away from her. Cute, he guesses.</p>
<p>Minho swears he sees sweat stains on the guys’ shirts as they scramble to the side of the counter to let Chan through.</p>
<p>“Lucky Strike?”</p>
<p>The words make Chan break into a smile. It’s easy to remember but Chan doesn’t need to know why.</p>
<p>“You’re not going to ask me for my ID...?” He trails of as he pretends to read the white name tag on the cashier’s shirt. “...Minho?</p>
<p>The question doubles as a trigger for the boys, up until now, suppressed anger towards Minho.</p>
<p>“Yeah! You asked us for our IDs! Why not his-”</p>
<p>“Scram.” Chan hisses at the boys that immediately fly for their lives. So much for being a sofie.</p>
<p>Minho blinks at the sliding doors before returning his attention to Chan.</p>
<p>Chan, who’s dressed in his community service clothes despite getting off it just a couple of days ago.</p>
<p>“Community service again? What did you do now?”</p>
<p>Minho spins on his heels so he’s facing their selection of cigarettes. He bends down as he pretends to look for Chan’s preferred brand. He’s sure that Chan is doing more than just pretending to look at <em>him. </em></p>
<p>The box is slid across the counter with Minho’s fingers wrapped around it. Chan places his hand over and gives it a small squeeze.</p>
<p>“Graffiti.” Is the reply, paired with a cheeky smile.</p>
<p>Minho pucks his lips up and lets out a low whistle.</p>
<p>“Wow. Graffiti. What’s next, theft?”</p>
<p>At this, Chan smile falters a bit and it makes Minho tut disapprovingly. Chan’s eyes widen at the sound and he lets out a tiny chuckle. </p>
<p>“You never know.” He replies with and licks his lips.</p>
<p>“Well, if there’s one thing we know for sure…”</p>
<p>Minho begins as he rounds it up. Pinches Chan’s card between his pointer and middle finger. Swipes it. Offers him a smile.</p>
<p>“...is that every prize has a price. Right?”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>•❅──────✧❅✦❅✧──────❅•</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Minho hisses at the cold when Chan fervently tugs down his trousers, exposing his thighs to the chilly night breeze. </p>
<p>“You’ve got a car, why don’t we use it?” He hisses again, back against the door of Chan’s Volkswagen. </p>
<p>Chan whimpers pathetically. He always turns non-verbal when he gets needy. Minho feels like being a bitch.</p>
<p>“Don’t use your hands.” Chan pauses and blinks up at him from where he’s kneeling in front of him, hands hovering by Minho’s tight fitting white boxers. Minho gives him a smirk and Chan whines.</p>
<p>“You’re evil.” </p>
<p>Minho can’t disagree with that, even if Chan only says it playfully, no malice or disgust hidden beneath the cutesy tone.</p>
<p>But Chan complies and uses his teeth to drag the boxers down, lightly scraping against Minho’s stomach, and then his cock is freed.</p>
<p>Minho likes this part. Chan’s eyes widen at the sight of Minho, even if he has seen his cock numerous times before, and his mouth immediately falls open. A pink tongue lolls out from between ballerina pink lips. Chan releases a whine at Minho’s indifference and lack of movement. </p>
<p>The older’s got his Levi’s clad knees pressing against the gravel beneath them. Minho can’t help but to stare at Chan when he shifts, wincing slightly as more gravel dig into his knees. That has got to be uncomfortable for him.</p>
<p> Minho sort of loves it. </p>
<p>He loves it so much so he decides that Chan should get a reward for it. A hand finds its way into Chan’s hair and tugs on it harshly one, two times, eliciting a surprised gasp. Without asking for permission, Chan’s eyes flutter shut. Minho can’t have that now, can he?</p>
<p>“Look at me.”</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Hey this is just something that's been sitting in my drafts since January of this year. I had nothing better to post but I still wanted to post something, even if it's unfinished. I hope everybody is staying safe there where you're sitting behind your computer screens. Have a good day/night/evening &lt;3</p></blockquote></div></div>
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